


you see rain

by ivegotyou



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blurryface Era, Chronic Pain, Coming Out, Realizing Feelings, TOPBigBang2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-29 16:18:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20085136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivegotyou/pseuds/ivegotyou
Summary: he gets a lot of headaches. he takes a lot of ibuprofen.“are you ever gonna go to a doctor?” josh asks, because he knows what tyler’s doing and why.“it’s probably just a side effect of my meds.” tyler takes another swig of redbull. its 10:14 pm. “i need those more than i need to not be in pain.”they’ve had this conversation before, but they haven’t had it in a saturday night live green room before, so it’s almost new and exciting.





	you see rain

**Author's Note:**

> yeehaw
> 
> title from two

tyler downs two ibuprofen with a big gulp of redbull. 

he’d taken two just an hour ago, but they hadn’t done away with the burning headache that seemed to take hold on his temple and dig in its claws. 

he gets a lot of headaches. he takes a lot of ibuprofen. 

“are you ever gonna go to a doctor?” josh asks, because he knows what tyler’s doing and why. 

“it’s probably just a side effect of my meds.” tyler takes another swig of redbull. its 10:14 pm. “i need those more than i need to not be in pain.”

they’ve had this conversation before, but they haven’t had it in a saturday night live green room before, so it’s almost new and exciting. 

“you’re in pain a lot.” josh is eating plain tortilla chips, and he talks with his mouth full. he’s also very skilled at pointing out the obvious. 

tyler doesn’t give that a response. he could be a smartass, but his head hurts too much and he’s not in the mood. 

there’s a little less than a couple hours until their performances. josh is drinking coffee. the caffeine is not helping either of their anxiety. 

josh is lying on the couch, staring at the wall, alternating between loudly crunching tortilla chips and sipping coffee that’s gone cold. tyler is curled up in a chair, trying to drink his redbull before it becomes lukewarm. there’s still a good amount of food on the table, but tyler’s already eaten and josh is content with his chips. 

eventually, the silence is broken by josh. “do you think you’re addicted to ibuprofen?”

tyler scoffs. “no. addiction needs a high. i don’t think you can even get high off ibuprofen.”

“you said think. there’s doubt there.”

tyler rolls his eyes. he’s not in the mood. 

“throw me the bottle.” josh holds out his free hand. there’s still tortilla chip dust on his fingers. 

it doesn’t matter. tyler tosses the bottle anyways. josh catches it with ease. 

the lid is child-proof. they joke a lot about how they’re children. it takes josh two tries to get it off, and he swallows two with his cold coffee. 

tyler bought two family sized bottles before they left on tour. it’s been almost a month, and he’s already more than halfway through the first. he doesn’t like sharing, but he will with josh. 

“you have a headache too?”

“it’s preemptive. hopefully it’ll help me not throw up on camera.”

tyler rolls his eyes again, catches the bottle when josh tosses it back, and then pulls out his phone and begins to scroll through twitter. 

their fans are excited. so many talk about how they’re staying up late, how they’re getting together with friends, how they got special permission to watch live. it’s nice seeing people look forward to their television performances. he does a lot of weird stuff, a lot of stuff that maybe tv stations wouldn’t really like. he’s got a list of rules. one of those is no trying to climb anything.

he’ll listen, but he won’t like it.

of course, there’s people who don’t want them to perform. those people are the type to complain that the lyrics are full of teenage melodrama, that tyler’s too young to feel this bad.

eighteen is the perfect age to feel like shit.

==========================

another day, another dose of ibuprofen. this time, the two blue pills are swallowed along with tyler’s prozac. he still washes everything down with redbull.

he flexes his hands and lays them on the keys of his keyboard and looks up at the computer screen. his mobile tiny studio bounces a bit as the bus hits a pothole, not enough to do any damage but just enough to be noticeable.

the synth sounds in his ears as he gently plays chords, trying to find a base to build a good song off of. nothing’s clicking with him, and none of his drafts are pulling at him, and there’s this creative buildup that he can feel tight in his chest. he wants, needs, to get something out of his head and hands and into the keys, but there’s a dam between his brain and his fingers and nothing will work.

instead of a block, there’s now frustration packed tight in his chest. he takes deep and slow breaths. getting angry won’t help him make music.

he flexes his fingers again, and something in his knuckles aches, and he curses. 

he opens up the browser on the desktop computer that he’d told his parents was a music only machine and starts scrolling through cool math games, finding something easy and only slightly creative to do. he also opens up youtube and plays mindless reddit reading videos for background noise.

tyler counts time through videos. he’s on his third when there’s a knock on the door.

“are you masturbating?” that’s josh’s voice.

“no.”

“are you sure?”

“what do you mean i’m sure?”

the door opens. “you’re not making music.”

“so therefore i’m masturbating?”

that doesn’t get an answer. “do you want to play mario kart?”

“no. busy.”

“cool math games is not busy.”

tyler rolls his eyes. “yes it is.”

“have you had breakfast?” josh is leaning against the doorway, arms crossed. he really is the mom of the tour, despite being second youngest.

“nope.” he looks at the clock on the computer. it’s 9:23 am.

“i’m bringing you cereal.” josh turns and walks towards the front of the bus. tyler watches him go.

depending on the cereal and how much milk josh adds, there’s a chance tyler will eat. there’s also a chance that the bowl will just sit there while he doesn’t create, and that josh will sigh and take the bowl away when they get to their next venue.

today, josh sets down a bowl of cinnamon toast crunch with the amount of milk that tyler likes. “if you don’t eat, i’ll mess up the show.” it’s a threat that’s been made so many times. it’s a threat that josh has never followed through on.

tyler eats it. it takes him a while, and the remaining cereal gets very soggy and kind of gross, but he still eats it. it does kind of make him feel better, and at least there’s something in his stomach for his meds to work with.

nothing productive gets done, unless getting a score of 70,432 in tetris counts as productive.

==========================

“ow.” tyler says.

he has a soft grip on his microphone, but even still his knuckles are aching. it isn’t even the individual fingers, it’s the ones across the back of his hand. it’s a new pain, and it’s all he can think about.

the backing track and his pre-recorded voice play over the arena speakers. his body double pretends to be him onstage. the act of tyler joseph is easy to mimic but hard to fully embody. any casual fan who didn’t know the trick would think it was him. the hardcore fans who knew would either enjoy it or scrutinize every small detail of movement, trying to figure out the difference.

not that it mattered. they’d still be amazed and they’d scream when he appeared across the area.

speaking of that, he gets into position to walk out into the stands, two security guards flanking him and one behind him. he stares ahead with purpose, bouncing on his toes and trying to quell the shaking anxiety in him.

it’s better with his medication, but that doesn’t make everything go away.

he hears his cue and steps forwards, through the black curtain and up the stairs in the dark. nobody looks at him, and then the music cuts out and his double drops from underneath the black cloth.

screams rise up around him.

he’s hit with blinding light from the spotlight, and the entire area roars. he basks in it, in the quiet in his in-ears, and then josh hits the drums and tyler snaps back into the persona he puts on for his performances.

he points and he moves and he embodies the show. pulling off his black mask reveals his sweaty face and messy hair, and as he looks around people roar and reach out for him and film him.

as it does every night, the knowledge that many of these people screaming for him are older than him hits him in waves that roll and crash with the sound of the crowd. he lets it carry him back down the stairs and through the halls of the venue. as soon as he’s backstage, he strips off his suit jacket and tie and tosses them to the side without looking. a crew member tosses him his beanie. he catches it, also without looking, and pulls it onto his head while still moving forwards.

the video of josh moving through that creepy house ends and the backing track starts. josh begins to drum, now in a white tank top. another crew member holds out the bass. tyler ducks his head through the strap and lets it settle across his shoulders, then takes the stairs to the stage two at a time and makes it to his microphone just in time to sing.

all of his focus, his attention, his being, is on the show.

a tiny part of him is thinking about his pain, but he shoves that part deep within him and doesn’t let it see the stage lights.

==========================

“fucking shit!” tyler slams his fist into the wall as soon as they’re out of sight of the crowd.

he’d messed up his jump off the piano after stressed out, and he hit the floor hard. his bad knee had shot up in pain and given out just when he needed it to work the most. he’d rolled and recovered but he hurts.

even though it’s a pain he’s used to, it’s at a level where he can’t quite get his reaction to it under control. he half-limps to his dressing room and breathes through gritted teeth. every step hurts.

a couple of crew give him odd looks, and he intentionally doesn’t make eye contact. they know about his pain, and it’s honestly kind of embarrassing. he puts on the act of being powerful, of being bothered by nothing, of being stoic and unmoved and untouchable. the fans see through it, the crew sees through it, but dropping the act in any way makes him feel odd.

he makes it to his dressing room, and he immediately goes for his bottle of ibuprofen. he tips three into his hand and grabs an already opened redbull from the small fridge. swallowing all three at once is too much, so he does two and then one, making a face after each swallow. he hates taking pills so much that sometimes even thinking about it makes him gag. it’s not even like the painkillers will help with his knee. they never really have.

there’s a bathroom with a shower just off of the dressing room, so of course his next action is to strip. he’s just in his boxers and has his thumbs under the waistband to take them off when the door opens.

“shit, sorry.” that’s josh’s voice.

“it’s fine. it’s not like you’ve never seen me naked.” tyler turns to face the door, not stopping the motion of taking off his underwear. josh still averts his eyes as he slips inside and shuts the door. he’s still sweaty from the show, confetti sticking to his shiny skin.

“are you okay? i saw your fall.”

“i’m…” tyler debates between lying and telling the truth. “not great. my bad knee really didn’t like that.” he typically tells josh the truth, and josh can always see right through him.

“already took your ibuprofen?” the question is asked like tyler is prescribed it. at this point, he might as well be.

“yeah. it never does anything though.”

“that sucks.”

“yep.”

josh is still not looking at tyler.

“dude, i’m eighteen, it’s not a crime to see me naked.” tyler steps towards the bathroom. “come on. join me. you also need a shower.”

“fine.” josh kicks off his shoes and takes off both his pants and underwear in one smooth motion. “but i’m not looking at your dick.”

“i look at your dick all the time.”

“not all the time. only when i’m naked.” 

“it’s a nice dick.” tyler steps into the bathroom and josh follows him.

“it’s just a dick, dude.”

“better than mine.”

“we are not having this conversation.”

tyler turns on the shower, and then looks back at josh, and then at his dick. a grin slowly spreads across his face as he reaches out and gently slaps josh’s dick.

it wobbles from side to side, and tyler bursts out laughing.

josh’s expression becomes the human embodiment of the slash mouth emoticon. “what the fuck, tyler.”

tyler is too busy laughing to respond.

josh drops his face into a neutral expression, and then does the same thing to tyler’s dick. he clenches his jaw in an attempt to not laugh, but he can’t resist.

they both giggle over the dumbest thing that they’ve ever done with each other, and they’ve done a lot of stupid things.

by this time, the water is warm enough to step in. josh hogs the spray, which makes sense, because he gets more sweaty over the course of the show and there’s confetti stuck to his back.

eventually, tyler pushes him out of the way so he can get rinsed off. doing a full shower with shampoo and body wash is often too much after a show. shower rituals are for mid-afternoons when they have the time and the energy.

being on tour and being two teenage boys doesn’t really lead to great hygiene. at least they use deodorant.

they do have to get out of the shower and dry off before bus call, so they do. they share a towel because tyler only has one and josh’s stuff is in his dressing room. tyler pulls on his knee brace and straps the velcro tight around his thigh and calf. josh roots through tylers suitcase and steals a t-shirt, boxers, and sweatpants. they take so many clothes from each other, though, that neither of them know whether or not those clothes were josh’s in the first place. 

tyler dresses in a similar outfit, t-shirt and boxers and sweatpants. the clothes are comfortable, and they’re enough to sleep in, although the shirts usually come off sometime between getting on the bus and actually going to sleep.

josh goes to his dressing room to gather his things while tyler zips up his suitcase with aching knuckles.

==========================

it’s raining, and their show is outdoors.

“shit.” josh mumbles.

“language.”

“i’m nineteen, mark, shut the fuck up.”

“alright. jeez.” mark stands behind them with his video camera, filming the open floor of the arena and the backs of tyler and josh’s heads. rain patters down on the awning they’re hiding under, and the arena is covered with a soft layer of water.

“we gotta get to the other side.” tyler says. 

“dude, hold my hand.” josh holds out his hand and tyler takes it.

“that’s gay.” mark says.

“you’re gay.”

“that’s the stupidest response you’ve ever given me. plus, i’m not gay.”

“you are now.”

mark sighs heavily. “just run so i can get the shot.”

the two of them look at each other and grin. josh moves first, pulling tyler with him as they sprint across the slippery floor. the bones near tyler’s ankles aches, but that happens sometimes when he’s been on his feet and moving for a while.

he doesn’t look back, but he can hear mark going as quickly after them as he can while still being careful. josh laughs, loud and wide, and tyler can’t help but smile at the sound, at josh’s delight in running through the downpour.

==========================

tyler’s finally working on actual music. it’s just the tempo, key, and a chord progression right now, but he found a good synth for it. currently, he’s trying to find another synth sound or two that work well with the first. those can take the melody or harmonies or maybe just the same chord progression, but with a different sound. it’s something, at the very least.

he can’t find the sound he likes, and the knuckles across the backs of his hands are aching, so eventually he just gives up and switches back to tetris and mindless videos. controlling the blocks with the arrow keys still hurts his hand. he ignores it and sinks into the nothingness of cubes and sounds. he reaches a score of 154,052, which is pretty good. he gets bad at it when it gets fast.

his head hurts, but he took ibuprofen two hoyrs ago. he can’t fuck up his liver and go to the hospital while he’s on tour. the fans would be upset at cancelled shows. the crew would be annoyed. josh would be disappointed.

he never wants to let anyone down. even the thought of doing anything near disappointing anyone makes his brain freak out and go into dark places. that state of mind is terrible for him, but he goes there so frequently. it’s difficult to leave the dark parts of his thoughts. they cling to him and pull him down into the depths and then he’s been staring at his phone for four hours without having done anything.

oh shit, he’s been staring at his phone for four hours. when did he switch from the monitor?

no, he remembers pulling out his phone and doing mobile games instead of tetris, remembers clicking from video to video. he’s done nothing the whole bus ride. he’d been jolted out of his mental fog by the bus stopping for more than just a few seconds, signifying that they’ve arrived at the venue. it’s interview time. it’s set up time. it’s soundcheck time. it’s show time.

he pockets his phone and steps out of the back studio. “hey.” his hands hurt.

“sup.” josh is playing something on the N64 that they’d brought on tour. 

tyler steps more into the living area of the bus, and sees that it’s super mario 64. “when’s our first interview?”

“half an hour.”

“cool.” tyler sits right next to josh and lazily follows the gameplay. his eyes keep drooping closed. it’s not bedtime, but his entire body wants to sleep.

josh notices. josh always notices. “need me to handle it?”

“i can handle myself.” he always feels bad whenever he asks josh to handle social things like this. josh throws up before and after every show. josh’s anxiety can make him unable to breathe.

“i don’t mind.”

“really?”

“okay, well, i do, but i want to help you.” josh takes damage in the game, and his only reaction is a soft head twitch. “you handle so many interviews for me when i get panicky. it’s only fair that i return the favor when your head is acting up.”

tyler hums quietly. he thinks about it for a moment. “okay. but beforehand, if it turns out you can’t do it, just tell me. we can share the interview leading.”

“fans want me to talk more.”

“don’t do shit just because they want it. fans want our nudes, but, y’know.”

josh’s face scrunches up in disgust. “the day anyone but you sees my dick is the day i die.”

“so you can’t look at your own dick?”

“i hate you.”

tyler closes his eyes and rests his head on josh’s shoulder. “uh huh.”

“genuinely.”

“of course.”

“i’m kicking you out of the band.”

“okay.”

“you’re supposed to be upset.”

“oh no, i’m out of the band.”

josh snorts at tyler’s flat tone, but quickly suppresses his laughter. “yep. out of the band.”

“guess we’ll have to cancel the show.”

“guess so.” the thought makes tyler’s anxiety spike, but he doesn’t show it.

they’re the only ones in the bus, and the only sounds are from the game and josh hitting the buttons and their own gentle breathing. it’s a soft, quiet kind of atmosphere, and it really does help tyler’s head clear. being with josh makes him feel things he doesn’t fully know how to describe, emotions that he can’t quite categorize yet.

best not to dwell on them now, and just feel them.

==========================

tyler hates photoshoots so much.

he hates posing. he hates being seen by the camera. he hates the fact that their faces are touched up to something that’s almost quite them, but josh’s nose is too flat and tyler’s skin is too clear and it feels more like someone pretending to be them rather than it being a true reproduction of themselves.

the camera flashes again, and tyler changes his pose ever so slightly. at least they let him and josh keep some of their band imagery. they can wear essentially their own outfits, and he can wear the black paint and josh can smear on the red eyeshadow. it kind of looks like shit, but photoshop is a powerful tool.

another flash. tyler rests his head on josh’s shoulder and slowly slides off and down josh’s chest while the photographer takes bursts of photos.

fans will love it. fans will say they’re in love.

fans say they’re in love whenever they look at each other, but that’s besides the point.

“okay, we’re gonna bring in the piano!” someone behind the lights in their faces gives placement instructions as a couple of their crew carry in the keyboard hidden inside the piano frame. tyler sits at the bench placed behind it, and josh hops up on top of the frame. it’s enough to carry both of their weight.

tyler pretends to play, leans back, looks around, whatever is asked of him. josh also complies well, but every so often they exchange a glance that communicates all of their internal feelings.

tyler wants to go back to the bus and sleep. josh wants to do the same.

the shoot continues for another hour, with other props and things. tyler lets it pass. there’s an outfit change too, and a reapplication of their makeup, and tyler hates the light feeling of the brushes on his face. it’s not a sensory nightmare, but it would be if he hadn’t felt worse.

when it’s over, tyler leans gently against josh’s shoulder. “hey.”

“my dressing room or yours?”

“mine. it has redbull.” tyler’s head it starting to hurt. “and better food.”

“you are the lead singer.” josh’s tone is bitter. neither of them like that tyler gets special treatment, but no matter what they say there’s always more for tyler, even when there’s less on his rider.

they ride back to the venue in silence. it’s not a bad silence, it’s comfortable, soft, wrapping them in gentle, quiet blankets. they sit right next to each other and tyler keeps his head rested on josh’s shoulder the whole ride. intermittently, josh leans his head onto tyler’s, a gesture of ‘i’m here.’

after they reach the venue and its backstage halls, they head immediately to tyler’s dressing room. their makeup is still on, but neither of them really care all that much.

tyler collapses onto the couch and tucks his legs up. josh sits right next to him, and they immediately lean into each other. it’s nice. human contact is comforting in a way tyler can’t really describe, especially josh’s contact.

josh pulls out his phone and starts scrolling through twitter. tyler closes his eyes and soaks in their comforting silence and togetherness.

eventually, josh speaks. “we should clean up.”

tyler nods, cheek rubbing against josh’s shoulder with the motion.

neither of them make any move to get up. tyler’s entire body feels too heavy to move. the exhaustion of tour is really catching up with him.

josh notices. he’s really good at noticing things. “i’ll help you. come on.” he stands up, and tyler lets himself fall over sideways onto the couch. “tyler.”

tyler grunts.

“get up.” josh grabs both of tyler’s wrists and pulls gently.

tyler gives up the act pretty quickly. he gets up and blinks with sleepy eyes. josh keeps a hold on one wrist and leads tyler into the bathroom and sits him onto the closed toilet lid.

“i’m gonna deal with my makeup first, okay?”

“okay.” tyler leans against the wall and watches josh with half-lidded eyes.

josh just uses his hands and soap and water to clean off his red eyeshadow and whatever other makeup had been mandated as part of the photoshoot. he’s careful not to get any in his eyes, and even though the bright red goes right up to his waterline he’s successful in his quest.

“come here.”

it’s not even a command, but tyler obeys like it is one. he stands up and shuffles over to the sink.

“neck or hands first?”

“neck, just to get it out of the way.”

“alright.”

josh has seen tyler take off the paint several times, so he isn’t surprised when tyler leans his body forwards and gently presses the top of his head into the bathroom mirror so his head is above the sink. neither of them use washcloths. they’re so easy to ruin.

tyler closes his eyes and just feels. josh’s hands are gentle in his neck as the rub the paint off. the water is warm, which is new, because tyler typically is too impatient to wait for it to warm up and just uses cold. it’s nice.

he loses track of time, just feeling. josh is quiet, tyler is quiet, and the only sounds are really running water. when josh’s hands leave his neck, he knows that that part of his body is free of the half-choking black paint. the towel that wraps around his neck to dry him off must’ve been silently grabbed from his suitcase.

“hands now?” josh asks. his voice is a gentle murmur, and it doesn’t disturb the soft atmosphere that surrounds them.

“mhm.”

the touch is gentle. josh runs tyler’s hands under the water and rubs the paint off with soap and his own fingers. the contact is nice on tyler’s aching knuckles. it’s not a proper, bright pain, just a low note that’s made a home within his bones.

it’s so nice. even though they have a show that evening, and they’ll have to return to the headspace that the makeup gives them, the respite of just having it off is enough to get them through the rest of their conscious day

tyler is sleepy.

josh dries off tyler’s hands slowly, and then leads him back to the couch and makes him lie down. “nap. it’s been a long day.”

“you nap too.” tyler mumbles. he grabs ahold of josh’s shirt and pulls gently.

“with you?’ the words are accompanied by a soft laugh.

“maybe. if you want.” tyler suddenly feels self-conscious and a little embarrassed. maybe he’s overstepping the limits of their friendship. “you don’t gotta.”

josh laughs gently again. “move over.”

there’s just enough room on the couch for josh to settle in behind tyler. he wraps an arm around tyler, and tyler convinces himself that it’s just to make it more comfortable. he ignores how much he actually likes being spooned by josh, and chalks it up to his teenaged brain desiring anything that could be even remotely construed as sexual. he doesn’t like josh like that.

josh sleeps and snores gently, and eventually tyler sleeps too.

==========================

josh breathes quietly and chews mint gum. tyler leans against the wall next to him.

the show starts in 5 minutes, and josh has already had his pre-performance vomit. now is the time where he tries to get the taste out of his mouth and get his anxiety under some sort of control. now is the time where tyler stands with him, not touching, just being there.

being there for each other is often the best way to help each other.

“almost time.” josh says.

“almost time.” tyler says.

“okay.” 

“yeah.”

another minute passes.

“go time?”

“yeah.”

a crew member walks by and tells them two minutes. they part ways. josh gets onstage on his side, and tyler gets onstage on his side. another minute passes, and then the clicking that signifies the start of the show begins, and the crowd screams, and tyler knows that he’s going to have a headache for the whole show.

==========================

the tour bus hits a pothole.

it’s past midnight. josh is playing super mario 64 again, carefully going through each level. he’s nowhere near a speedrunner, and he likes exploring every corner of every game he plays. tyler is sitting next to him watching, leaning gently against josh, not enough to mess up his gameplay but enough to have that comforting contact. his headaches haven’t been as bad lately, and he hasn’t been taking as much ibuprofen. the only thing that’s been bothering him is his bad knee and his knuckles.

they’re in active pain right now for no good reason. he has his hands cupped around each other. it doesn’t help the hurt at all. it’s more than an ache but less than a spark. it’s new and he hates it and it hurts, and he hasn’t felt it for long enough to get used to it and shift it into the background of his headspace.

his bad knee is like that to him now. even though sometimes the pain is enough to break into the front of his mind, most of the time it just aches and he can feel it and deal with it.

the knuckles are a new pain.

“do you think i should go to a doctor?”

“hm?”

“about my hands.” he’s complained to josh about the pain before. well, it wasn’t really complaining, just mentioning that his knuckles ache. 

“that would make sense.” josh isn’t looking at tyler, but that’s okay, because he’s playing a game and tyler doesn’t really like eye contact anyways. “have you looked up what it could be?”

“yeah.” tyler rubs his palm with the thumb of his opposite hand. “either i’ve banged my knuckles against something, it’s arthritis, or it’s a rare autoimmune disease that targets connective tissue.”

“any idea as to which one?”

“well, i haven’t been consistently slamming my knuckles into things, and i don’t have any other symptoms of the autoimmune disease, so it’s probably arthritis.”

josh hums in thought. “arthritis can start at any time, right?”

“yeah.” tyler sighs and stares down at his hands. “there’s so many different kinds, though, and i told my mom…” he trails off. he feels stupid.

josh doesn’t push it. he knows to just let tyler take his time.

“she said i’m too young. and it bothered me, because i’m not too young.” the words begin to spill out of him. “i looked it up, and you can get arthritis at any age, just because it typically presents in older people doesn’t mean i can’t have it. and, and, it just kind of, y’know, plays into my fear that i’m faking it. that my knuckles just hurt randomly one day and my brain ran with it and i’m lying about it.” he’s shaking, and there’s tears in his eyes, and he doesn’t know quite why.

“you have real pain.” josh says quietly. “it’s not fake. it’s real.”

“there’s this allergy, y’know? there’s this allergy to pesticides and stuff, but the thing is, if you give the people with this allergy two of the exact same thing, but tell them one has the pesticides and one doesn’t, and they’ll only have the allergic reaction to the one they’re told has the pesticides, even though both things have them. it’s all in their head.”

“tyler.”

“and lately, if i even think about headaches, i get one. it’s not as bad as the ones i was actually getting, but i think about it and my head hurts and even though it’s not as bad as my usual headaches it still hurts.” he’s working himself into an anxiety attack. “what if my hands are like that? what if my knee is like that? what if it’s all in my head?”

“tyler.” the game is paused. josh is looking at him. “tyler.”

he’s crying. there’s tears down his cheeks and he doesn’t know where they came from. this isn’t what he wants to cry over. he’s being stupid. he’s being so, so stupid.

“here.” josh opens his arms, and tyler leans into them. josh wraps him in a close hug and doesn’t let go, and tyler starts to cry.

he hasn’t cried in a long time, and there’s so many pent up tears and sobs within him. they flood out louder than he wants, and through the noise he’s making he can hear people moving within the bunks.

a voice he can’t quite make out speaks in their direction. he hears josh reply “it’s fine, i’ve got this.”

for other people, it would sound like josh considered helping tyler to be a chore. for tyler, it means that josh is here, that he’s staying, that he’s going to stay until tyler feels better again.

he cries for a long time. in fact, he cries himself to sleep in josh’s arms. he wakes up lying on the couch in the living area of the bus, head on josh’s lap, other crew members moving around and getting breakfast. 

something flutters within tyler’s chest at how near-intimate his contact with josh is. josh’s lap is comfortable, and tyler’s eyes aren’t fully open yet, so he just keeps them closed and rests. he kinds feels like shit, but that’s always how he feels after crying himself to sleep.

one of josh’s hands is resting gently in tyler’s hair.

tyler listens to the gentle murmur of conversation, of how mark laughs at a dumb joke that brad makes. it’s weird, sometimes, that almost all of their crew is at least 5 years older than them, but tyler and josh are considered mature for their age.

mental illness makes you grow up fast, he guesses. 

he pretends to still be asleep for a couple more minutes before he feels up to shifting and completely opening his eyes. josh smiles at him when he looks up, and his heart flutters.

uh oh.

he sits up fully and rubs at his eyes for longer than he really has to. cleaning out the sleep-sand is his least favorite part of waking up, and he pulls at the corners of his eyes to make sure it’s all gone.

“good morning.” josh says. 

tyler hums a response. he’s not quite up to speaking yet. it’s too early or it’s too soon after he’s woken up. whichever one people will take depending on the time of day. 

“cereal?”

tyler shakes his head.

“too early? that’s okay.” josh stands up and stretches big and wide. “i’m gonna eat something real quick and let you wake up.” he slips over to the kitchen.

mark looks at tyler and raises an eyebrow. he doesn’t have to ask the question aloud. he’s been their videographer since the beginning, and tyler knows him about half as well as he knows josh, which is pretty significant considering how close tyler typically gets to people.

tyler shakes his head slightly. he’s gonna have to talk to josh about it.

he’s not going to, because anxiety wells up in his chest just thinking about it, but whatever. someday. maybe when they’re not on tour.

==========================

“mom?” tyler lightly drums his fingers on his keyboard, not enough to properly press any notes. “remember what our pastor said about gay people?” he’s bringing this up on one of their weekly calls, mostly on impulse, and he knows if he doesn’t do it now he’s gonna be too afraid of the outcome to ever bring it up again.

“i do, honey.”

“do you agree with it?”

“why?”

“just answer, please.”

she sighs lightly. “a little bit. but, hate the sin, love the sinner, you know?”

“yeah.” there’s a sickness in tyler’s stomach.

“is this about josh? is josh gay? is he coming onto you?” concern is in her voice. “do you need to come off tour? i can talk to andrew if you need to cancel or anything if you’re unsafe-”

“no, it’s not like that. josh hasn;t said anything like that to me.”

she’s quiet for a long moment. “are you gay?”

“i don’t know.” a lump forms in his throat and he swallows it down. “i’ve just been thinking about it recently, and i’m.” he’s afraid of what she can do. he’s a legal adult now, but she’s very persuasive and has become good friends with a lot of their management. she could call anyone and cancel their tour.

“...do you like josh?”

oh god, he’s going to cry. “yeah.” his hands hurt. he forgot to take his meds that morning. he wants to think about anything but the fact that he likes josh in that kind of way, and that he’s admitting it to himself at the same time he’s admitting it to his mother.

“okay.” there’s silence after that. 

tyler doesn’t say a word, doesn’t make a sound, just lets silent tears stream down his face.

“okay.” she repeats. “that’s… that’s okay. you’re my son. you’re still my son.”

a sob makes its way out of his mouth.

she hears it but says nothing. “let me process this, okay?”

“okay.” his voice is watery.

“no matter what, i still love you.”

“love you too.” he doesn’t know whether or not he believes her.

she hangs up.

he takes deep breaths and tries to get himself back under control. it’s fine. he’s fine.

he’s not gay.

he likes josh.

oh, oh, oh no, he likes josh. his heart flutters when josh smiles. every bit of contact pulls him towards his bandmate, his best friend.

what if josh doesn’t feel the same?

he tucks his knees up to the chest in his hair and rests his forehead on his kneecaps. his fingers tangle tight in his hair, and the pain of pulling it slightly is new and different and enough to keep him grounded.

it’s fine. he’s fine. she still loves him. he’s still her son.

fuck.

he likes josh.

==========================

josh strips off his shirt during the show, and tyler realizes that he stares every night at josh’s bare torso.

he nearly stumbles over his words, but he’s more afraid of screwing up the show than he is of his growing feelings for josh.

running and jumping and performing is easy for him, almost easier than breathing. he gives this crowd of 16,000 the same energy that he gave their crowds of 500 when they’d started out. they’d both been sixteen, just signed to a label, just produced their own record, excited to make their start in the industry, excited at all the opportunities that had been laid out before them.

they’re older now.

the lights go out at the end of the song. tyler can hear the roar of the crowd through the protective barrier of his in-ears. this is his own kind of drug, less addictive than most, but still sending very similar chemical feelings to his brain. it lasts for ninety minutes, it brings him so, so high, and the crash afterwards is terrible.

he tries not to look at josh.

he keeps looking at josh.

he feels shame about looking at josh.

==========================

tyler hates some interviewers on first question. typically, it’s because of their tone. this time it’s for that reason.

she was just rude, and had obviously done no research, and when she calls them by the wrong names it makes tyler’s blood boil.

there’s just two of them, and they have very different faces, it’s really not that hard to learn who has what name and to call them by the correct ones. josh gets the lead singer questions, which he stumbles through, both of them too anxious and awkward to correct her. on the inside, tyler is angry.

he’s especially angry because she ignores him, obviously knowing enough about the band to know that the one called josh is the drummer, is lesser, deserves less attention. josh deserves a lot, josh has always deserved a lot, and this isn’t a new thing that tyler’s feeling just because he likes josh in that kind of way.

josh deserves more attention from the public and interviewers and even their fans. he sees how his side of the stage is five rows deep before there’s more than just barricade at josh’s.

the interview ends and they walk off, and tyler can finally let his anger and frustration show on his face.

josh is laughing about it. “it’s so ridiculous that some people don’t even bother to learn about the people they talk to.”

tyler blurts out something that isn’t even a response. “is that what it’s like for you all the time?”

josh pauses. “well, not all the time. most interviewers include me, but some are like that one.”

“i mean, i always notice people like that and try and get them to include you, but how do you not get angry about it every time?”

josh shrugs. “i’m just the drummer.”

“you are not just the drummer! you’re an important part of the band! it wouldn’t exist without you! if there were, like, three other people other than you and me you might be able to get away with being just the dummer,” he accompanies the latter three words with violent air quotes, “but not in a two-piece band. not if i have anything to say about it.”

tyler looks over and is surprised to see josh visibly blushing, a near-bright red all over his face. he seems almost embarrassed by tyler’s defense of him, of his role in the band, of his general importance.

“i don’t do anything more than drum, though-”

“shhh.” tyler presses his index finger to josh’s lips to shut him up. “even if only visibly you are the drummer, you mean a whole lot more to be and you contribute so much to the sound and the creative process. take. the. compliment.”

now josh is a nice bright red. he stops protesting, and takes tyler’s praise of who he is.

good.

==========================

“can we talk?” tyler says. 

it’s late. they’re in a hotel room because their next day is a day off. even though the label would buy them separate rooms if they wanted, they prefer to share. 

“about what?” josh is on his phone.

“have you ever, like, thought about your sexuality?” they’re not sharing a bed. they don’t ever really share. the only time they’ve properly slept together, just sleeping, was on the couch after that photoshoot. tyler doesn’t know whether or not after he cried himself to sleep counts.

“yeah. why?” josh sets his phone down onto his chest. he’s lying on his back on top of the duvet.

“i’ve been thinking lately, and, um.” it’s so hard to say. he hopes to god josh doesn’t hate him. “i don’t know what, specifically, like, sexuality i am, but i do know that i’m at least into um. other men. like, i want to date them and stuff at the very least.” he’s still thinking about it. “what about you?”

“honestly, same.”

there’s a release of tension from deep within tyler’s chest.

“i’ve been calling myself bi, but i don’t know if it’ll change.” josh stares up at the ceiling. “i know i at least like other guys in, y’know, that way, and im pretty sure i like girls like that too. that might change as i get a better awareness of myself and get a little bit more away from my family, because they’re constantly asking me if i have a girlfriend yet and stuff like that and it might be screwing with my perception a little.”

“how long have you known?”

“uh. hm.” josh’s brow furrows in thought. “since i was fifteen maybe? i know around that age i started to feel things for other guys, but i didn’t really know how to categorize it or feel about it or anything. i thought it was wrong.”

“same.”

“but i know better now.” he looks over at tyler. “how long have you known?”

“just within the past like. two weeks. but i know that it’s real and kind of always been there. i just…” tyler searches for the right words. “i don’t know how to handle it. i’ve been feeling things towards one specific guy and its been a lot to deal with.”

“do i know him?”

“yeah.”

silence. tyler rubs the knuckles on his right hand with his left thumb. they don’t ever really stop hurting now.

“is it me?” josh’s voice is quiet.

“yeah.” the confession is quieter.

tyler doesn’t look at josh.

“um.” josh giggles a little, a sound that’s almost unnatural coming from him. “good. cause i, uh, i like you too, tyler.”

this isn’t happening. no way. no way josh dun, out of all the people on the planet, likes him back. josh is too good for tyler. too perfect. too caring. too kind. too good.

“oh.” tyler manages.

josh slides off his bed and sits next to tyler on the other one. “i think you’re cute, and kind, and that your smile and laugh are amazing. i like you, tyler, in that kind of way.”

“cool.” tyler almost chokes on that simple word. “um.”

josh laughs, but he’s not really laughing at tyler, more at how all this information has come to light. “so…”

“i think i need to, like, figure myself out a little better before we do anything or get together or. y’know.” 

“that makes sense. just hit me up whenever you’re ready to like, kiss or whatever.”

“yeehaw.”

josh snorts, and then they both burst out laughing. it alleviates the unnameable tension that had been forming between them.

“um.” tyler forms a request within his mind as they wind down. “will you cuddle me again?”

“hell yeah.” josh grins, and his grin makes tyler feel things he hasn’t really felt before.

he’s not sure if he’s gay or bi or something along those lines, but he knows he likes josh, and that’s a pretty good start.

==========================

“fucking, ow.” tyler mumbles.

he’s been stretching his hands a lot in order to play the right chords during their live show, and it’s beginning to make his hands be in active pain about three-quarters through their set every single show. 

“what do you need?” josh asks. he’s been by tyler’s side right after every show since they’d confessed to each other, which has only been 3 shows, but it’s enough to stick within tyler’s memory.

“ibuprofen.” tyler says through gritted teeth.

“come on.” josh takes tyler’s elbow gently and leads him back to their dressing room. this venue had made them share, and neither of them minded. 

the ibuprofen bottle is a little less than a quarter full. he’s been trying to not take as much. josh tips four into his palm, and tyler closes his hand before josh can amend his mistake.

“isn’t that too much?”

“nope.” tyler grabs a redbull from the fridge. he cracks it open and swallows the pills two at a time. it takes him a good ten seconds each time, because he has to situate them properly in his mouth to get them both down in one go. he really hates taking pills, but if he has to, he will, and this is a situation where he feels like he has to. he hates being in pain. he always has. 

“i have an idea.” josh reaches into the freezer part of the fridge. it’s a bag of frozen peas.

tyler takes another gulp of redbull and eyes the bag suspiciously.

“sit and give me one of your hands.”

“okay.”

they sit together on the couch, and tyler holds out his left hand. it’s the one that hurts more right now, because it’s also the one he has to play the bass with. josh takes it with his own gentle hands and begins to massage tyler’s knuckles with the bag.

it doesn’t seem like it should feel as good as it does, but the combination of the cold with the gentle rolling of his knuckles help relieve some of the pain. there’s still an ache deep within his joints, but a lot of the blatant pain is gently massaged away.

after a few minutes, he switches to tyler’s other hand. tyler drinks his redbull throughout the whole process. the caffeine doesn’t really keep him from sleeping. he always struggles to fall asleep anyways.

“do you think it’s okay to call my knee and hand issues chronic pain?”

josh hums. “how long has it been going on?”

“my knee for two years. my hands for the last month or so, but it’s been ramping up every week.”

“i think it’s okay. i mean, it’s pain, and it’s not going away so that makes it chronic, so, y’know, chronic pain. i don’t think there’s a chronic pain police sitting somewhere yelling at people who maybe don’t qualify or whatever.”

“makes sense.” his hands hurt less now. “so i have chronic pain.”

“yeah.”

“after tour i should get a diagnosis, or at least see a doctor. i’m tired of hurting.”

“i don’t want you to hurt either.” josh hold tyler’s hands gently within his own. “i want you to be okay.”

“i want you to be okay too.”

“i’m not the one with chronic pain.”

josh saying it aloud makes tyler both nervous and accepting of how he is and how he’s feeling.

they’re staring into each others eyes, and tyler finds that eye contact with josh isn’t making him all that uncomfortable. there’s an expression on josh’s face that he can’t quite describe, and he finds that he’s mimicking it.

“can i?” josh whispers. he doesn’t have to clarify what he’s asking about.

“of course.” tyler breathes.

josh closes his eyes and leans in, and tyler copies the action.

their lips touch gently, noses bumping and then slipping past each other. josh is soft, and they stay pressed together for a long, long moment.

they pull apart, and josh looks like he has stars in his eyes.

“hi.” tyler says.

josh grins. “hi.”

it’s wonderful.

“i’m not ready for anything more yet.” tyler looks down at where their hands are intertwined. “but i liked that.”

“do you want to do it again?”

tyler nods and looks back up.

their second kiss is longer than the first one, but still just as soft. their third is the one that deepens, that has josh straddling tyler’s lap, that has their tongues slipping into each other’s mouths.

tyler realizes he must taste like redbull, since he’d had a sip maybe two minutes ago. josh just tastes like mouth.

the realization makes him giggle, and the giggle makes josh pull away with a smile on his face. “what?”

“you know how in like, making out stories, people taste like things?”

“yeah?”

“you just kind of taste like mouth.”

josh bursts out laughing, falling off tyler and onto the couch. tyler joins him, and the adrenaline of kissing combined with possibly the stupidest thing he’s ever said makes then stay within the laughter for a long time.

“i like you a lot.” josh says through his heaving breaths.

“i like you a lot too.” tyler says, and he grins and grins.

**Author's Note:**

> might write a sequel since i didn't write everything i wanted into this one cause time yknow
> 
> tumblr: [nonbinaryclancy](http://nonbinaryclancy.tumblr.com)


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